Part One
My name is Steven Nelson. During the Vietnam War era, the local church my family belonged to became heavily involved in what they termed “rescuing” small children who had been orphaned in the conflict. Specifically, they tried through various diplomatic means to arrange for orphans to be adopted by Canadian couples. Once that task was accomplished, the means for them to be transported to safety and the promise of a better life overseas was the next obstacle to overcome. It was quite an ordeal to do this due to legal and logistical impediments, but eventually about two dozen Vietnamese war orphans ended up in loving, adoptive, Canadian families that way.
One such family was the Normans. They had an eight-year-old son named Peter who was my age. He and I attended the same elementary school. Of course, this meant that Peter was frequently a classmate of mine. One spring day in 1972, Peter suddenly found himself the brother of an eight-year-old Vietnamese-born, adopted sister when all the paperwork and travel arrangements had been officially finalized.
Her name was Huyen—which means “mysterious” in Vietnamese. That name was fitting because Huyen’s past was one huge question mark. No one knew who her parents were or what her name actually was. She was just left on the doorstep of a South Vietnamese orphanage one day at approximately age two and was assigned the name Huyen by its staff. Of course, Huyen couldn’t speak a word of English when an official from the church accompanied her on the long airplane trip to Canada and the subsequent 90-mile train ride from the airport to her new home on the other side of the world.
Huyen was predictably demure, but she was a very pleasant girl who was thoroughly loved by her new family. Peter, who was a very good student, delighted in teaching Huyen how to speak English well. She was a quick learner and an obviously bright girl. Every day Peter would look up four of five common words in the dictionary and work with his new sister to help her memorize them, spell them correctly, and use them properly in sentences. He was thrilled to be of help—and Huyen adored her supportive and caring new brother.
Huyen was predictably small in stature—especially compared to the rest of the Norman family. Mr. Norman was 6’3”. His wife was 5’9”. Peter was among the tallest boys in his class, and was certainly destined to surpass six feet when he reached adulthood. Petite Huyen just joked about it whenever they were in public and someone was perplexed by the Normans having a diminutive Asian child. “I come from a distant part of the family—very distant!” she’d declare with a brilliant smile. That was another feature of hers that was endearing.
Besides being a delightful girl, Huyen had another obvious characteristic: She was undeniably pretty. She had the feminine beauty traits that seem to be so common in Asian girls and women. There was a certain, perceptible glow about Huyen that invariably caught the eye of every red-blooded male. More than once, I heard boys from all ages tell Peter, “Your adopted sister is very beautiful!” These comments started when Huyen was as young as nine years old. Yes, she was that attractive!
“I won’t deny that because I can’t deny that!” was Peter’s automatic reply to such frequent comments. He’d always promise to pass along the compliment to his new, same-age sister who seemed embarrassed by the constant praise about her beauty.
Part Two
By the time Huyen was 14 years old, she was stunningly attractive with her pretty face and terrifically alluring figure. She was probably the best-looking girl in her large middle school—which was no small feat. I was present when Mr. Norman and two other fathers who had adopted Vietnamese children a decade before were asked to speak at the church’s men’s club about their experiences. When fielding questions from the audience, Mr. Norman was asked if he and Huyen had experienced any sort of racism because of their different ethnicities.
“Thankfully we’ve experienced nothing blatant, but sometimes there are little comments that make me feel slightly uneasy,” he noted. “I was recently chatting with our neighbors about our respective families. Their 16-year-old son commented that it would be very awkward for him to have an adopted sister who was not a Caucasian girl. However, about 20 seconds later, he wanted to know if it would be alright if he asked Huyen for a date.” Laughter engulfed the room.
By the time Peter and I were both 18 years old, he could not help but notice that I and other lads my age would subtly eye Huyen whenever we were invited to Peter’s house. Sometimes the eying wasn’t subtle at all. I was as guilty of it as anyone.
“Do I need to remind you horny guys that Huyen is my sister?” Peter once firmly said to three of us visitors to the Norman household when his gorgeous sibling was safely out of earshot.
I replied, “Peter, my father married his friend's sister. I'd say it's worked out quite well so far. They’ve been happily married for 20 years.”
“There’s a difference, though, Steven,” Peter quickly tried to claim.
“Yeah, I know,” I swiftly responded. “I’ve seen photographs of my mother when she was a teenager. She was a cutie, but Huyen is undeniably better looking at than my mother ever was. Even my dad would agree!” Everyone laughed at my assertion, even Peter.
Part Three
Peter seemed to be the most protective brother that any girl, especially a teenager, could possibly have. Huyen sensed it, too, and appreciated it. She was constantly clinging to his arm and giving him little hugs when they were out in public or even in the same room in their home. My sister and I had an excellent relationship, too, but she was never that openly affectionate with me. I surmised it was perhaps a cultural trait that Huyen had retained despite her leaving Vietnam at age four.
During our last semester of high school, Peter and I were in the same world history class. One major project had us working in pairs to write a fictitious discussion between two people with diametrically opposing political viewpoints. We came up with the idea to have a North Korean soldier chat with a South Korean counterpart in 1950. Our teacher, Mr. Kerwin, thought it was a great idea and gave it his necessary approval. We had two weeks to write the dialogue, which had to be at least 1,000 words in length. Peter and I, both strong history students, figured we could easily complete the assignment in a couple of hours. Peter invited me to come to his house on Saturday morning, three days hence, to work on it.
“My parents will be away for the weekend,” Peter told me. “I’ll be home with Huyen. Arrive at about 10 a.m. I figure we should be done by noon. I’ll order pizza for the three of us for lunch. My treat! One other thing, Steven: Don’t bother to knock or ring the doorbell. If I’m downstairs in the rec room, I often can’t hear someone at the door. I’ll leave the side door unlocked for you. Just walk in.” I made a mental note of Peter’s invitation. That was the last we talked about it.
On Saturday morning, I walked the four blocks to Peter’s house carrying my history binder and my pencil case. My timing was good: I got there precisely at 9:58 a.m., according to my wristwatch. As instructed, I walked into the house through the unlocked side door. I yelled, “Hello, Peter!” immediately, but I got no response. I descended to the rec room. No one was there. I went back up the stairs and entered the kitchen. I still encountered neither Peter nor Huyen, but I could clearly hear the shower running. I set my supplies on the counter and walked toward the bathroom with no intention of entering it, of course. I was about five steps from it when the water ceased running. Perhaps 20 seconds later, the door opened...and out walked both Peter and Huyen! Their wet, nude bodies indicated they had been showering together! The implications of this absolutely dumbfounded me.
Huyen was the first to spot my presence. She predictably shrieked and hurried back into the bathroom for a towel in which to wrap herself. Peter just stood naked in front of me. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what had happened.
“Oh, damn! This is Saturday morning!” he blurted. “I completely forgot that you were coming today, Steven. I apologize.”
I was tempted to tell Peter that the few seconds I got to see his stunning sister in her birthday suit more than made up for him forgetting about our get-together, but I just said, “Yeah, that’s right, Peter. Today is Saturday and you forgot I’d be here at 10 a.m. to work on our history project and have a pizza lunch at your expense.” I paused for about five seconds, then I coyly asked Peter, “Did I interrupt something?”
Peter had the guiltiest look on his face that I had ever seen on a human being. “Yeah, you certainly did interrupt something, Steven,” he confessed. “It’s been an ongoing secret of mine and Huyen’s for about six years now. Let me get dressed. Let Huyen get dressed, too. Then I’ll try to explain things.”
I could hardly wait to hear all the sordid details.
Part Four
Both my hosts dressed quickly and met me in the kitchen where I was sitting at the table waiting for them. Both seemed ashamed—especially Huyen, who looked to be on the verge of tears. Peter took a deep breath and began a very personal monologue.
“Huyen became my adopted sister when she was about eight years old. Of course, nobody really knows how old she is. Her age is just an estimate. I was eight at the time. We got along splendidly. We became very fond of each other. When I turned 12 and hit puberty, I couldn’t help but notice how pretty Huyen was even though she was. If she were my biological sister, that would have been the end of my physical interest in her. But, of course, we have no biological connection. I convinced myself that Huyen could just as easily be a complete stranger to our family.
“Recently, I succumbed to temptation. When no one else was home, I convinced Huyen to shower with me. I gave her the lame excuse it was to save water. Despite being 18, she didn’t question it. She seldom questioned me about anything because I was her wise and caring brother. So, we showered together. You can imagine what happened when any male shares a shower with a female as pretty as Huyen is.
“Anyway, we both enjoyed the experience and we continued to do it as frequently as we could get away with it. After about the fifth shower, Huyen suspected it was not a normal thing for a girl in Canada to shower with her brother. I confirmed that was the case, but I also said that we couldn’t say anything about it to our very religious parents as the news would be devastating to them. We decided the best thing to do was to continue our sexy showers but tell absolutely no one. Steven, I didn’t expect you’d be the first person to learn about it. I’m ashamed an embarrassed.”
There was a long silence that was eventually shattered by Huyen. “I am embarrassed and ashamed, too. I love my brother and my adoptive parents,” she stated. “What Peter and I have been doing is morally wrong. It is sinful behavior. It is a disgrace to the family. Yes, Peter coerced me into having that first shower, but I enjoyed it very much, so I willingly continued showering with him because I discovered I like sex. That is shameful for an unmarried 18-year-old girl to admit.” Then Huyen began to cry loudly.
I thought it best for me to say nothing—yet. Meanwhile, Peter embraced Huyen and told her not to cry. “Maybe it’s a good thing we got caught,” Peter suggested to her, “Maybe it’s a sign that we ought to stop showering together. We were risking you getting pregnant. We’ve had a few close calls where I just pulled out in time!”
I already suspected from Peter’s monologue that he and Huyen were totally sexually involved with each other, but his last statement confirmed it for me.
“Honestly, I never suspected a thing,” I told Peter.
“You have to be the first and last person to know about this,” Peter advised me. “The secret cannot go beyond you. Will you stay silent, Steven?”
I was about to say that my lips were sealed without any further ado, but Huyen surprisingly upped the ante. “Steven, I don’t know you very well, but I do like you. You seem like a nice young man, just like Peter is. If I let you fuck me, will you keep the secret Peter and I have?”
Peter seemed as startled by that remarkable sexual offer as I was. He gave his sister a stare of disbelief for a long time.
“I think this is the best solution,” Huyen informed both of us. “I agree with Peter that you catching us this morning was a sign that we need to stop showering together. But I still like sex. I think I need sex—and I want it from Steven! What do you think of my idea, Steven?”
“I know exactly what he thinks, Huyen!” Peter interjected. “He’s been eying you for as long as I have, maybe longer. There’s nothing wrong with his eyesight.”
“Guilty as charged!” I stated. “I’d love to have sex with you, Huyen—seven days a week, if possible. You are a gorgeous teenage girl. I’m getting horny just thinking about it.”
“Okay,” Huyen said. “You two work on your school project until it is done. Then we’ll have pizza, and then I’ll give you a fuck in my bedroom, Steven. This will be something new for me. I’ve only ever fucked Peter, and we’ve only ever fucked in the shower.”
Part Five
Peter and I worked diligently on our history project. We were all business, and we produced a very strong dialogue to submit to Mr. Kerwin. There was no joking between us and no irrelevant chatter. I got the distinct feeling that Peter resented that his carnal fun with Huyen had come to an abrupt end—and that my penis was replacing his in his sister’s pussy. (He had my sympathy—to a point. If I had been screwing Huyen and it suddenly came to a sudden halt with no advance warning, I’d be irked, too!) Peter kept his word and ordered enough pizza and garlic bread to fill our three stomachs. When the last morsel was consumed, I was ecstatic. I could feel an erection rising in my trousers because I knew what was next on the agenda. So did Peter.
“I’ll just go downstairs to the rec room and watch television,” he said with a defeated tone in his voice. “I’ll leave the two of you alone up here to do what you’re going to do. Remember, Peter, Huyen is still my sister and I love her. Please be gentle with her, will you?”
“Of course, Peter. That’s a given,” I replied. “I’ve long fantasized about making love to Huyen—not just having sex with her. There’s a huge difference. I wouldn’t hurt this beautiful creature for the world. Trust me, my friend.”
Peter descended the stairs without saying another word. I could hear the TV set come on. That was the signal for me to bed the prettiest 18-year-old girl in town. As a conservative Christian, I had been taught the importance of avoiding the temptation of premarital sex, but like most healthy boys, I had not followed that advice to the letter. (I remembered the old joke about the devout but virile Christian young man who declared, “Give me celibacy—but not yet!”) Before that fateful day at the Norman residence, I had had three sexual encounters in my young life. Not one of my partners was remotely in the same league as beautiful Huyen Nelson when it came to physical beauty.
I joyfully lifted Huyen into my arms—all 5’1” of her—and planted kisses all over her face and neck. When our lips finally met, we engaged in a long smooch. Huyen seemed to like that. “Peter and I don’t do much kissing, ” she informed me. I had to ask directions in order to carry Huyen into her bedroom. I deposited her on her very soft but very large bed. “This bed could accommodate four girls your size,” I marveled, “but I only want you.”
I began disrobing and so did Huyen. I stopped her when she got down to her blue bra and white panties, just so I could pause and marvel at her overall beauty. After a suitable period of gawking, I said to her, “Allow me, Huyen.” I unclasped her brassiere and set it onto the carpeted floor. Then I pulled her panties down to her ankles and then completely off her comely body, exposing her hairy vagina. She just grinned as I removed my clothing and exposed my raging erection.
“I think I’m aroused, ” I said with considerable understatement. “Huyen, I want to pleasure you completely, sweetheart. You deserve it. Just lie back and let me tend to business.”
The first order of business was to stimulate Huyen’s vaginal area. My licking her pussy was something new and wonderful for her. She approved and once again informed me that Peter never performed that sex act on her.
“What a pity! Peter’s a grand fellow, but he is quite foolish about some things,” I noted.
After Huyen’s nether region was sufficiently moistened by my probing tongue and her bodily fluids, I moved my mouth upward and planted a dozen more kisses on her torso until I came to her fine breasts. They really were excellent examples of human femininity—especially for an 18-year-old girl to possess. They were curvy and firm, and had wonderful perky nipples. I could have spent hours just fondling them without getting bored. “I just have to suck on these beauties, Huyen, ” I told her. “They are fantastic.”
After two or three minutes of sucking and licking them, I asked Huyen if I could give her a titty fuck. She was totally unfamiliar with that term. “Well, let me show you what I mean!” I eagerly replied.
I straddled this lovely creature and placed my firm penis between her sexy tits. “Squeeze them together around my erection while I slide it back and forth.” I instructed her. Huyen caught on very quickly and began to giggle. “I don’t really see the point of this, Steven,” she told me, “but if it makes you happy, do it as long as you like.” About 30 lustful thrusts made me very happy.
As the head of my dick was shoved close to her chin, Huyen suddenly asked me, “Would you like me to suck on your penis, Steven? Peter likes it very much when I do that sex act to him. Sometimes I bring him to an orgasm, and he comes in my mouth. I won’t mind if you do that, too.”
No normal male would refuse that offer, so I naturally replied, “Yes, Huyen, please do!” I kept straddling her but moved myself forward. Huyen simply opened her mouth as widely as she could, and I inserted my firm manhood. It was a warm, welcoming feeling to have my stiff rod there. “Well, Peter got that right!” I said to Huyen as she gave me a combination of passionate licks and sucks that nearly put me over the edge.
“Huyen, you are very good at orally stimulating my penis, ” I told her, stating the obvious, “but I’d rather fuck your pussy before I come.” She nodded to indicate she fully understood my desire. I promptly slid down her body and positioned myself for sexual penetration. This was undoubtedly the highlight of my life at that point in time.
“I’ll be gentle, Huyen,” I promised her. I need not have said anything. Her vagina was not nearly as tight as I anticipated. Apparently, Peter had used it to excess during their showers for two. I didn’t care. Screwing Huyen was an erotic and exotic thrill—one I never expected to happen to me. I happily thrusted my rod as deeply as I could. Huyen was squealing with delight, so I knew I was doing at least a passable job with my lovemaking.
“Don’t come inside me, please, Steven,” Huyen urged me. “This sexual intercourse with you is plenty of fun, but I’m not old enough to be a mother yet.”
I was tempted to tell her that she was wrong about that. She absolutely possessed the necessary equipment for motherhood. Any female with the sexy, developed body that she had was biologically ready to be impregnated. Of course, I realized that she did not mean what she said in a literal sense. I complied wither request, pulled my dick out of her vagina, and instead launched a huge cum shot across her breasts. I let out a manly grunt while ejaculating. It was my declaration of total satisfaction. Huyen smiled sweetly and sexily at me. I figured there wasn’t a single male pupil at Huyen’s school who wouldn’t want to be where I had been for the last 15 minutes doing what I was doing. Then I realized that applied to any normal male anywhere—not just teenage boys.
“That was a big cum shot, Steven. Thanks for not coming inside me,” Huyen declared. “Peter was right. I’ve had a few close calls with him in the shower—especially in the last two weeks.” She paused momentarily and then said with a cheeky grin, “In a short time I’ve learned how to make him come quickly, but I also know how to prolong our fucks, too.” I sincerely hoped she would continue to expand her sexual know-how with me as her guinea pig.
We adjourned to the shower to clean ourselves up. Soaping and washing Huyen’s body from her head to her toes was a very enjoyable task. I made a point of fondling her bum as I had basically ignored her cute behind when we were fucking on her bed. I quickly regained my erection and surprised Huyen by lifting her off her feet so I could penetrate her vagina again.
“Please pull out, Steven,” she asked me politely after about 30 seconds. “My pussy has had enough fucking for one day.” (I had forgotten that Peter had sampled Huyen’s delights a few minutes before I got to his house.) However, she quickly suggested, “I can give you a hand job to make you come again. That’s what I do to Peter when I’ve had enough intercourse. I’m not sexually experienced like you are.” I didn’t dare tell Huyen that she was just the fourth girl I had ever had sex with—and the previous three were merely onetime flings.
It turned out that just two minutes of Huyen kissing and jerking on my shaft while kneeling before me was enough to summon a second cum blast from my testicles. This one struck Huyen mostly on her lips and chin. Like the good lover she was, she used her fingers to place most of my jism into her mouth. “Down the hatch with your cum, Steven,” she merrily announced. What a girl she was!
Shortly thereafter I turned off the shower faucet. I assisted Huyen onto the bathmat, and we dried each other off with fluffy towels. I suggested we head back to bed just to cuddle in our birthday suits for mutual enjoyment. We did. It was great fun hugging and caressing the most beautiful girl I had ever seen for the better part of an hour.
Out of the blue, Huyen asked me, “Since I won’t be doing sex things with Peter anymore, will you take his place, Steven? I really liked fucking with you. I liked it a lot!”
“Yeah, I think I can arrange my schedule for frequent sexual romps with you, Huyen,” I said in a deadpan. Frankly, I desperately wanted to jump for joy.
“I’m so lucky I was adopted by the Normans and brought to Canada,” she said, “or else I’d never have learned that sex was so much fun.”
I didn’t respond. I just let Huyen naively believe that nonsensical statement to be true.